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Due to vacations falling at the end of April and the beginning of May, the April issue will run through May. We will have a NEW issue on June 1. Thank you for understanding and keep those submissions coming. Thank you.
WritingRaw is a monthly literary magazine dedicated to new and emerging writers. Our goal is simple - to serve the literary community with the opportunity to have their work online and out in the world. In this world of disappearing literary magazines, WritingRaw is providing the blank pages for writers to fill. To view someone's writing, click on the link and a pdf version of the piece will open in your browser.
Don't have a pdf reader?
Thank you everyone for the show of support these last few weeks. The submissions to WritingRaw.com have been amazing. As you will notice we have changed format again based on some of the suggestions we received. The site has a much sleeker design, better online font, no more "Like" buttons or other outside forces that have slowed the site down in the past. We have gone back to basics… concentrating on the written work and the promotion of it.
We are still looking for:
- 500 words or less essays about your struggle to write or published in the traditional sense (put Struggle in the subject line of the email). These essays can be read on the Tips/News page.
Wolfram Fleischhauer: Wolfram Fleischhauer has published 8 novels, all of which have been translated into several languages. Current release: Fatal Tango
Jonnie Jacobs: Jonnie Jacobs is the author of thirteen novels. She is an active member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and has served on the Edgar awards committee. Current release: Paradise Falls
Marissa Meyer: Marissa Meyer lives in Tacoma, Washington, and her debut novel is: Cinder: Book One in the Lunar Chronicles
Larry D. Sweazy: Larry D. Sweazy is the author of the Josiah Wolfe, Texas Ranger (Berkley) series. His current release is a standalone thriller: The Devil's Bones
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Quote of the Day
Quote of the Day
provided by The Free Library
writ·ing ('ritiNG), Noun: The activity or skill of marking
coherent words on paper and composing text
raw (rô), Adjective: In its natural state; not yet processed or purified
Ditch Weeb Rib
I am not going to come down
Get into your lap,
Smile or play,
I won't be a good cat today.
No, I don't want to eat
From the bowl,
Or sip the milk
You've kept ready for me, 'Silk'.
You thought I always loved you
When I purred,
Or licked your feet-
Oh! no, that'd be mere weak.
I so wanted to break free
From the leash,
Yes, always
And deceived you with pleas.
Today, I will hunt my own food
With paws,
And wait, till
I find a partner to mate.
I have high hopes to flee
Yes, I have to
If not today, in
One of the nine lives to live.
Yes, I know it isn't the day
Today you'll get me,
I've to come down
Today is mere a sojourn.
© 2012 Abhra Pal
Sojourn by Abhra Pal
A Penny Lost is a Penny Found by N. Joy Lutton: Shawna's dreams comes true after finding her own Prince Charming and taking a trip to Disney World. But should she have made a wish upon a different star?
Bloom in Baghdad by A. M. ben Yitzhak: "Baghdad, Iraq. The Wake-Up Day. The Final Day in the Suck. The Day of All Good Things. The Freedom Bird awaits. A violation of trust. A break with protocol. What are the thoughts that pass through a war fighter's mind in the ultimate heart beat of his life, between the explosion of the VBIED and the final release of death? BLOOM IN BAGHDAD probes the nexus of belief and doubt, of war and religion, of deo and patria." Mahalo.
Diorama by Kate Campbell: Grief and memory frame Ray's twisted heart as he goes deeper into his mother's life and death. Scene by scene, he embraces her, submerges into the painful theater of her life and becomes complete in the disturbing darkness he has concealed, transmogrification complete. It's true: We are becoming our mothers.
Finding Amy by LaShawn White: Do you ever really know who you are or where you come from? Aisha Thompson thought that she knew where she belonged in this world and in a matter of seconds her life is turned upside down and she can't be really sure of who she is and who she can really trust. Finding Amy is about Aisha's true journey into discovering where her roots truly lie and that the people you love and trust the most aren't always as they seem.
Homecoming by Anne Short: Will's wife of 60 years begins to mistake him for her former fiance, Carl, the man who died by Will's side in The Bataan Death March. Now he is haunted by memories of his death, guilt of betrayal and his wife's inability to recognize him.
Human Horses and Bangla by Anand Dubey: When we sit comfortably, secured and fulfilled in our potpourri scented luxury apartments with matte, satin or eggshell finishing on Brazilian Rosewood panels, rubbing our asses on Italian black leather sofas, switching through 500 channels on our Beo-vision plasma T.V sets with HD and 3D technology and drinking fine Montrachet wine while gliding our tongue through cheese swirls; somebody strives hard for bread, to fight hunger and fetch one time meal and put themselves on sale not to get life but to delay death yet not losing the essence and spirit of life and sharing.
It Didn't Matter by Dan Sloan: An afternoon walk that ended with the summation of a life.
Mario Polzetti by Rod Hamon: Mario Polzetti is the boss of one of New York's Crime Syndicates; a man who allows nothing to stand in his way. His thoroughness in covering his crimes is constant frustration to the police and in particular Detective Leroy Dabrowski who is determined to out smart him.
No Good Deed by Joan Mazza: A retired psychotherapist offers to talk to a child about her nightmares unprepared for what they reveal about her neighbors.
Out of Thin Air by Kathryn Netzel: "Out of Thin Air" examines a complex relationship between brother and sister. Narrated in the second person, this story forces the reader to internalize the uncomfortable realities of growing up with a self-destructive sibling, while also forcing the narrator to come to terms with her own reality.
St. Marc's Man by Kyle Iverson: An old man with nothing left returns to the country of his birth, where a younger man struggles to forgive himself for his past. Both were changed irreparably during the Troubles fighting for the losing side. When their cause was lost, were they lost with it?
Texas Clout by Logan Seidl: Past prosecutor, Guy Slade, now finds himself defending those that he used to fight so hard to put away. His new case tests the justice system and questions what really is right, showing that nothing is simply black and white.
Truth or Dare by Kelly Seale: The four of them were snowed in for the evening, which was ok by Alex. Three beautiful women, and one man. Every guy's dream, right? Alex Had no idea of the rollercoaster ride he was in for on a late November evening, snowed in with his beautiful wife Andrea and her two best girlfriends. When a game of Truth or Dare is suggested, Alex, reluctant at first, joins in the seductive game with a dark secret that could effect his relationship with Andrea, as well as her two best friends. At the very least, It would leave all of them with a night they would not soon forget. I invite you to join them for an exciting, sensuous game of Truth or Dare...
Bed Bugs & Beyond: A Play in One Act by Mark Blickley: Bed Bugs and Beyond is a vulgar play with lofty intent. NYC is currently facing a bed bug scourge and these frightening creatures are even more horrific when one extensively researches their violent and perverse misogynist sex lives which are a wonderful metaphor for the political attacks currently being waged against women and gays in 2012.
I am Jacks Close Eye by Anand Dubey: We run on false claps following the "Yuppie Manual"; times when brands wage wars to hack into our inviting brains. The topics of bar discussions is the latest t-shirt or sofa unit and the driving force i.e. advertisements controlled and circulated by few powerful want us to feel uncool, blabbering and stupid.
Ode: To The Last Great Giant by Jake Sullivan: There is a lot to say about the poet, hard workingman, hard drinking intellectual named Henry Charles Bukowski (1920 - 1994) however; those snob-nosed literary critics will point to the contrary. To the critics, those traditional stalagmites of old lore, good ole Hank, as called amongst those closest to him, is nothing more than a thorn in the side of the university English departments and traditional writing system this country was so founded.
Shylock in the Twenty-First Century by Christopher Nagle: Dealing with Jews and Jewishness is every bit as dangerous a subject now, as when Shakespeare wrote 'The Merchant of Venice' in the late 1590s. All the prejudices are toxic and navigating them is always tricky, as it was for Shakespeare, only these days, more people hate a nuclear armed Shylock, and more vehemently, than ever before. More, we are now hostages to his fate in ways Shakespeare could not have imagined.
The Musings of an Idiot by Anominus: People who write anything with any degree of seriousness usually put their hearts and a lot of hard work into it. We send it off and we hope for the best. My stuff didn't get published, so I asked myself, "Was it me?" Well, maybe...
Void by Ronald Fischman: "Is." The stative suggests something that lasts beyond time and season, beyond you and me, even beyond observer and observed. The Void "is" an unknowable depression under a real boulder in a real glacial stream. Share the magic of father, friends, and children at this crevasse of magic.
Winds of Change by Mr. Ben: Winds of Change parades a matrix of stories, depicting experiences of people in different countries of the world and conveying their situations as good, bad and ugly(at the discretion of the reader). The ageless material contains stories that touch the hearts of (concerned) individuals and explores various 'welldones' and ills of the society. Good, funny and sad endings underscore the profundity of the literary material.
Windswept Tales from the Coast by Christopher Nagle: Journeys are not just a matter of passing landscapes, but interactions with the landscapes of the mind. Travel is a mental and emotional prompt, and a reminder that all experience can be a stimulating juncture of perception, memory and reflection. When one speaks of a 'wealth of experience', this is not just a vacant figure of speech, but a call to value add our lives. There is so much more to cycling than the trip!
- Books to Promote between stories, poems and articles (we are closing the Bookstore and placing these book promotions on every page everyone can see them) Send us a jpeg of the cover, a brief synopsis, and ordering information with the actual link (put Promotion in the subject line of the email)
Send any of these to Weeb at weeb@writingraw.com
Again, thanks to everyone for your show of support - either through submissions or comments. So now it's up to YOU to SPREAD THE WORD: Don't let us die! Let the world know about WritingRaw and all the good and positive things we do for up-and-coming writers.
The Staff of WritingRaw.com
______________
April/May's Contest
Write a 500 word or less piece based on the following famous last lines, but make it your FIRST line:
"Everyone was looking up at me and Sub, and I was not sure what I had seen but I knew what we had done."
Flash fiction, poetry, any form you like. The winner will be placed on the site in May and will win a $20 gift certificate from Amazon.com. Send submissions to: weeb@writingraw.com with CONTEST as the header.
Forget magazine pronouncements of the sexiest or most interesting. Award shows come but once a year. Rating systems and polls do not include me. And who decides must lists?? Here is the place to get the feel... think zeitgeist... culture. Rib knows what we should be excited about and what should drop off the radar. Just call it instinct or let me know I am wrong and perhaps we could have it out. What has us thinking this month? Here is the flavor of the moment, a page in time for...
Creative Writing Course
in historic Castillon, SW France
Crime Writing - Commercial Women's Fiction - Romantic Fiction
- We are situated in the centre of a typical small French town in SW France. Shops, bars, restaurants and the River Dordogne are all within a few minutes walk.
- We serve tasty food made from local produce and are only ten minutes from St. Emilion in probably the best known wine-producing region in the World.
- Our Tutors are highly qualified and very experienced.
- Chez Castillon is a truly magical place to get creative.
This is real France!
Booking Now: 21 -27 April 2012; Price: from £825 per person, excluding flights
To book visit: www.chez-castillon.com
It was an early Friday afternoon. Done with work for the week, he prepared for a walk with his dog in the woods. After he placed an orange scarf on the dog, he got a handful of dog treats, his red down vest, a leash and his camera. The dog knew the ritual, became excited, and jumped in anticipation. Though less excited than the dog, he was upbeat at the prospect of the next few hours. These walks were one of his few pleasures.
He left the cabin with the dog on the leash. The dog pulled the leash, eager for the walk. Half way up the drive, the dog stopped, smelled a boundary scent and reapplied his urine. It was always this way. He was very fond of the dog. That fondness compelled him to accept the dog's rituals as his own.
They reached the gravel road and turned west. The dog was pulling the leash. The eagerness had returned. He looked at the sky. It was sunny. There was no wind. It had rained for three days. The last two days were dry, but overcast. He was hoping to take photographs of the mushrooms that always came with the fall rains.
The gravel road ran down hill. One hundred yards from the cabin drive, a two track opened north into the woods. It was the south most entrance to 2,400 acres of state land. He and the dog had walked the forest several times a week for the two years he had lived in the cabin.
When they reached the two track they stopped. It was the dog's call. He smelled a scent at the mouth of the two track and lifted a leg to renew his mark. The man unleashed the dog. The dog sat in anticipation. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a dog treat, broke off a piece and gave it to the dog. Still chewing, the dog ran quickly up the trail. He followed the dog with a steady pace. He planned a short four-mile hike.
He began seeing mushrooms after two tenths of a mile. There were more of them than last year. They were larger. Most of them were bright yellow. He was disappointed. They had already begun to dry out. It was too long after the rains. The photographs would not be as good.
He took pictures for about a quarter of a mile. He sighed, turned the digital camera off and placed it in the pocket of his vest. The mushrooms were too dry. He knew the pictures would not be good. He resumed a steady pace.
He and the dog had walked this track hundreds of times. They rarely saw another person. The dog stayed mostly on the track, usually fifteen or twenty yards ahead of him, with brief forays into the ferns and the woods. The dog usually returned to him every ten minutes for a piece of dog treat.
He got the dog when it was only four weeks old. It came from a large litter. It was not the runt, but the next smallest. The dog was very submissive and playful. They had developed an easy close relationship, one of companions. They accepted each other's rituals, though the dog less so.
His pace remained steady. He did not see the largeness of the forest, only the small things. He drifted into his thoughts. He could walk the track without paying much attention, knew it that well. His thoughts drifted into those dark places most preferred not to go. They frightened even him.
About a mile and a half into the woods, he heard loud branch breaking noises ahead and to his left. He did not see the dog. It was not the dog, too loud he thought. The noises were also too loud for a deer. Then he saw movement. Ahead to his left, he saw it. A large black bear was loping swiftly, twenty yards parallel to the track. The bear did not look at him. Its back humped up high, as high as the man was tall, between lopes. It moved past him. Its face was low to the ground and looked straight ahead. The bear angled, as if to cut the track, fifteen yards behind him. In one motion, it stopped five yards from the track, pivoted 180 degrees and moved swiftly to the west.
He had followed the movement of the bear. First, he only turned his head. His shoulders followed as the bear angled to the trail. The sight of the bear had not startled him. His feet never moved. As the bear moved west, a sensation shot through his body. It came from within and spread outward. It was an adrenaline rush. The flight or fight mechanism had triggered.
His thought of the dog. He whistled loud, shrill, called the dog. After a second loud whistled, he called the dog again. The dog leaped from the brush, ten yards in front of him on the track. The dog stood there, very still, straight legged, ears erect, not with his usual easy grace. The dog had also seen the bear. He leashed the dog. They continued their walk.
As they walked, he thought about what happened. He wondered why he had not moved. He knew he was not frightened. He knew he was not shocked into a paralysis. Yet, he had done nothing to protect himself. As he thought more, it came to him. If the bear had attacked, it would not have mattered. All that was left were rituals, a few of his, a few of the dog's. It just didn't matter anymore.
© 2012 Dan Sloan
It Didn't Matter by Dan Sloan
Preview:
"Oh God of Israel! Why have you deserted us? What have we done to deserve such affliction and annihilation? Where is the Lord God of hosts who delivered us from Egypt, who gave us manna from heaven, who brought us through the wilderness to the walls of Jericho and in a single blast of horns destroyed them? Oh Lord God where is our Covenant now except in the surety of death at the hands of our enemies?
Is this your idea of cleansing? Are you trying to see how far you can go to break your people's faith? Or is it some terrible divine joke I cannot possibly fathom? Answer me Lord, damn you! Do not make me suffer in such utter silence; such despair!
After all these centuries of wandering in the Diaspora and faithfully observing your Laws and Commandments, you have kept rewarding us with pogroms and continuing exile from the land you promised us. And now your people have been harvested like so much wheat; scythed down as they waved goodbye to life, hope and you oh Lord. Now Abraham's fields are nothing but burnt stubble and ash! Is this what we were chosen for?
What more can you do to punish what is left of us? Is it even your punishment? Were you ever there to punish or even reward us? Was our belief that we were your especially chosen just a tribal conceit that has brought down the wrath of our neighbors upon us? Speak to me Lord! Tell me it isn't true."
One of the clearest memories I have of my youth is a 'Time' magazine article written shortly after the 1967 'Six Day War' between Egypt, Syria and Jordan on the one hand, and Israel on the other. The by-line was, 'The Shortest Day' which was a reference to the 1962 Normandy invasion WWII film, 'The Longest Day'. It was a gleeful account of the Arab's humiliating performance on the battlefield as opposed to the speedy brilliance of the Israeli forces and the outstanding generals who deployed them.
It was a high point for the Jewish settler-occupiers of Palestine; probably the all time high point in the history of their control of the territory that they won by creeping migration, leveraging the British during a very critical time in World War 1, gaining a 'sympathy vote' UN mandate and winning a war in 1948.
In the process, they have become not only the most vehemently hated people in the Middle East, but the entire Muslim world; so much so, that the violence this has spawned is now spreading back to the people and institutions whose support makes possible Israel's continued existence as a state.
While they still dominate through overwhelming military power, the process of maintaining that dominance has turned into something much grimmer and more attritional, as asymmetrical warfare modeling has developed, and the specter of innovative new uses of weapons of mass destruction stalks them and their supporters.
The 'Jewish Problem' did not end in the holocaust and the very proper contrition that followed it. It was exported from Europe to the Middle East in a gesture that was as cynical, guilt ridden, spineless and ideologically indulgent as it was an honest attempt to 'do something' for a people who had been treated in ways too dark to come to ordinary grips with.
Shylock, Shakespeare's Jewish character from 'The Merchant of Venice', is no longer a helpless victim of abuse for being a 'Christ Hater' or having to suffer the contempt of hypocritical Christian borrowers who have excluded him from most occupations other than that of the despised money lender, or endure the impositions of legal systems that systematically discriminate against him.
Nor can anyone arbitrarily and at their whim deport him or murder him, his family, community and his people, en mass, even though there are now millions of the 'Other Semites' who would dearly love to have a go at the first opportunity, if not at Shylock, then his supporters.
Now he controls a Jewish state that dictates to his neighbors, makes up laws and administrative arrangements that suit him and doesn't hesitate to use his new found military hardware to extract not merely 'pounds of flesh', but tonnes of it, whenever he feels it necessary.
What is revealed in this transformation of Shylock is that the problematic roots of Jewish relationships with neighbors are not merely a function of the latter's' prejudicial defects, but something that is also problematic in the tribal politics of Judaism, whether it's being kicked or doing the kicking.
And that is not only a very long and old story, but one that is sure to be unpopular with interest groups who like to put it about that everyone else bears the blame for all the terrible things that have happened and undoubtedly will continue to happen to this extraordinary, unique and often fraught group of people.
Anyone who has been on the wrong end of genocide deserves justice, amends and the cutting of a lot of slack. But that does not mean giving them territory that no one had the right to 'give away' in the first place and that only a Jew would consider theirs by right, in the second. Nor does it mean giving their subsequent occupation of Palestine a permanent moral holiday from normal judgment that would be applicable to anyone else.
Shylock in the Twenty-First Century by Christopher Nagle
The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts by Gary William Murning
Synopsis: Cover blurb for The Realm of the Hungry Ghosts by Gary William Murning: "For Sonny Moore, writer and family man, chance discovery and the force of untethered past are about to impact on his life in ways both unimaginable and profound. Faced with events he cannot explain, and those he does not even wish to contemplate, his world and the worlds of those closest to him spiral down into a realm of need and hurt, where ghosts walk - and occasionally resemble those closest to him." Order from Amazon.com; Amazon.co.uk; Publisher's website (free sample available here).
